


The Hardships of Albus Dumbledore, Portrait

by IrisCalasse



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: April Fool's Day Crack-Fest, Crack Treated Seriously, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-04-01
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:41:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23428657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IrisCalasse/pseuds/IrisCalasse
Summary: A crack fic that includes House-Elves, Sherbet Lemons, Mrs Norris, Wands, and lots of sex, but none that Dumbledore is allowed to see.
Relationships: Crookshanks/Minerva McGonagall/Mrs Norris, Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 12
Kudos: 20





	The Hardships of Albus Dumbledore, Portrait

Albus Dumbledore was bored.

People seemed to think that portraits would be in stasis. Like if you died and were put on a portrait, you’d forever be the wise old wizard that you were painted to be. Well they were wrong. Granted, being a portrait did have its advantages, such as never needing to take a piss or have a snack, but _Merlin’s saggy left nut_ , it was b o r i n g.

He had at least gained the ability to move from portrait to portrait, and so he at least got to travel a little, but to be honest that was boring too. Nobody ever put portraits of dead Headmasters with Orders of Merlin, First Class, in interesting places. No, usually he’d be in a museum or a library or some office full of stuffy ponces like Percy Weasley or rule-abiding killjoys like Minerva Mcgonagall. None of them were particularly interested in the ramblings of an old, dead man. The only living beings he regularly interacted with were house-elves, for crying out loud.

(Awhile back, he’d been very invested in watching the drama between Fernando, one of the house-elves who worked on the 2nd floor of the Ministry of Magic, and Mipsy, who worked in the kitchens of Hogwarts. Mipsy was convinced that Fernando was stepping out with Honeychild from 3rd floor. Fernando had assured her that she was the only elf for him, but Mipsy said that she’d found a lace doily in Fernando’s room, like Honeychild always wore, and how dare he --- but then Mipsy had realized that Albus was in his portrait and was a little too engrossed, and they had both popped away, and he did not know what had happened next.)

He decided to pay a visit to Severus Snape’s portrait, in the Potions Master’s quarters.

“Why is it so dark in here?”

“Oh be quiet, Albus,” Severus said, his frown more pronounced than usual.

“Have you been covered? Why?”

But he needn’t have asked, because a loud, masculine moan told him the answer not even a moment later. And then a feminine voice:

“Why, Malfoy, is that a wand in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?”

Albus’s eyes widened. He knew those voices, didn’t he? “Don’t look!” Severus hissed, and spread his cloak to fill his frame with even more darkness. It did nothing to obscure the sound of wood scraping against the stone floor of the dungeons, nor of the wet, sucking sounds of lips and flesh, nor of the slither of cloth as it was thrown against a wall, nor of labored breathing and gusty sighs.

“I can’t wait, I need you now --- Granger, love, open wider for me ---”

“Ahh, Malfoy, ahh, _shit_ \---”

“You’re so tight, _fuck_ , that feels sooo good --- ”

“I love it when you say filthy things, fuck me harder, Draco!”

Albus had given up trying to see past Severus and was just trying his best to hear everything he could. “How long has this been going on?” he whispered to Severus.

“They started about half an hour ago, so they’ll probably be at it another three or four hours, why?”

If he were a younger, less mature wizard, he would’ve punched Severus. “That’s not what I was asking! When did our Potions professor get together with the Minister of Magic?”

“When she was here last, for the Triwizard Tournament. Would you like a sherbet lemon?”

Albus’s eyes grew wide. “Are you kidding me?”

“Do I look like a man who would tell a joke?”

Good point.

“Dammit, I have to tell Minerva about this!” Albus exclaimed. Severus shrugged and popped a candy into his mouth. He'd be sitting here in the dark for a long time.

* * *

Albus ran, through the portraits up from the dungeons to the Headmistress’s quarters. He had been bored, but this, _this_ , was finally something _interesting!_ And he _would_ tell Minerva about it, she definitely needed to get that stick out of her ass!

“Cockroach cluster,” he nearly told the gargoyle, then remembered that first of all Minerva didn't like sweets, and secondly he was a portrait and didn't need passwords. He rushed right into the Headmistress’s office, calling out “Minerva, Minerva!”

He looked around. The office was empty; but it was after hours and Minerva should’ve ended her patrols ages ago. Where was she?

 _“MINERVA!_ ”

Finally he heard footsteps and the door to the Headmistress’s quarters opened. Minerva came out looking rather dishevelled. As she went closer to Albus’s portrait she discreetly hacked up a furball, which she Vanished wandlessly. “What is it, Albus? I’m rather busy.”

“Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger are shagging!” he blurted out.

Minerva sighed. “Albus, I could’ve told you they would eventually do so, even back in their Hogwarts days. Now, like I’ve said, I’m rather busy… grooming… Mrs Norris and Crookshanks.”

She turned her back on him and quickly hurried away. Albus could’ve sworn she was blushing. Minerva never blushed! He stared at her back; there was something wrong there; perhaps she was an impostor? As Minerva opened the door to her quarters, she turned around and saw that Albus was still watching --– she drew her wand --–

Albus found himself back in his original portrait, in the Gallery of the Fallen behind the Great Hall. He frowned. He could’ve sworn he’d seen two people behind Minerva, a brunette and a ginger. At least they seemed like people. One of them certainly had very nice legs. Mrs Norris perhaps?

 _Surely not,_ he thought, and went back to brooding.

He wished he could at least have a lemon drop.

**Author's Note:**

> Written in an hour for the Strictly Dramione April Fools' Day Crack Drabble Fest. No beta. We were supposed to write with a max of 600 words, but I kinda wrote 850? Oops.
> 
> Also, there's no mention of April Fools' Day or pranks here, but I do hope you'll consider the whole thing a prank, because after imagining McGonagall getting some --- pussycat hair --- in her mouth I now need to wash my brain out with disinfectant. Thank you.


End file.
